


Crawling In My Skin

by dgalerab



Series: Among Us [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mutants, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sexual Trafficking/Rape, Other, mentions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab
Summary: Come on, Barbie, let's go party! (ah-ah-ah-yeah)(AKA the TenSemi conclusion that was too long to make it into Burn. It's a serious fic I swear.)Sequel to Burn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't a crackfic, it's just that Tendou Satori has broken my brain.

Wakatoshi calls them all into the dining room on a Saturday. He looks tired in comparison to how he usually is, but the determined flare in his eyes that has always made Eita trust him is back full force.

“I’m glad to see you are all still here,” he says. “I know things lately have been… less than ideal.”

Satori hovers behind him, smiling ruefully, but he doesn’t interrupt.

Wakatoshi sighs. “I assumed, when I acquired my father’s organization, that I was above the poison that has spread through it. I was not.” He speaks evenly, somehow holding each of their gazes at once. “I was blinded by pride and the hunger for power. I see that now, and as such, I feel it is time to change course.”

He pauses, but no one moves to speak over him.

“My goal is the same that it always was,” he says, softly. “I truly believe that we could create something great. That we could defend the weak and forgotten, even when no one else is able. But we will not do so by acquiring power, or by instilling fear in others.” He takes them in one by one. “I understand it is a large change. If any of you feel it does not suit you, you are free to leave. I will, of course, ensure that you are well situated if you do.”

Eita glances around the room. Not so long ago, he would have thought that Satori would leave, but he knows now that’s a ridiculous thought. But he’s startled to find that no one else moves either. He’d have thought, at the very least, Shirabu was in it for the power, or perhaps…

But there’s no move to leave, not a single murmur of protest. In fact, most of them seem downright proud. Eita tries to reach out with his powers, but even there, there’s not a shred of dishonesty in any of them.

Eita has been blind too, it seems.

The corner of Wakatoshi’s mouth seems to twitch around the edge of a smile, but he continues without a hitch. “Shirabu, Kawanishi,” he says, and they both snap to attention at the severity of his voice. “I wish for you to find out, in detail, what every one of our partners is involved in. With Kawanishi’s persuasive ability and Shirabu’s telepathy, I am certain you can be extremely thorough.”

“Yes,” they say, at once, endearingly serious.

“Those of our partners who are honest and acceptable will be managed by Reon,” Wakatoshi continues. Reon nods with a smile.

“Yamagata will deal with the authorities. Our goal is not to impede them in their work, but to help them deliver the justice they cannot.”

Yamagata gives a small salute.

“Goshiki,” Wakatoshi says.

Tsutomu pales and stands straighter with a sharp, loud, “Yes!”

Eita smiles. Tsutomu may be a little young and a little clumsy, but he’s shown himself to be very brave and steady in stressful situations. Someday, when he matures, he’ll be a great man.

“I’d like you to pay close attention to everyone,” Wakatoshi says. “Someday I would like you to be my partner and heir. For that I wish you to understand the workings of this organization. For the time being, however, I would like you to coordinate, and report back to me with the progress everyone is making.”

“Yes,” Tsutomu says, on the verge of tears.  

“Eita, Tendou,” Wakatoshi says, with an air of finality. “You two will be with me. I will rely on your honest input. I want to be certain that we are efficient and that justice is being delivered.” Satori wilts sheepishly over the slightly forceful _honest_ , but Wakatoshi looks at Eita with a questioning gaze.

Eita nods, smiling softly. “Of course,” he says.

-X-

The next few months are busy. They’ve gotten five sex traffickers locked up, several more lined up. And indeed, seeing them behind bars is a great deal more satisfying than killing them himself.

Well, hearing Satori’s morbidly humorous descriptions of how their faces looked behind bars. Eita doesn’t want to see any of them ever again.

Wakatoshi looks happier now than he ever was before, and watching him tend to his plants is now a soothing ritual that Eita tries to enjoy fully whenever therapy shakes him up.

Which it does. Repeatedly. Eita hadn’t realized quite how much emotion he’d been shoving into the background to avoid dealing with it, and now he has to pick it all apart into bite sized pieces. It’s exhausting, and some days he just wants to curl up and die.

Satori seems uncertain of what to do in those moments, so he just sits beside Eita and babbles. As much as Eita hates to admit it, it helps. Sometimes Satori makes him laugh, and everything feels better. Other times Eita starts crying and he feels humiliated, but Satori quickly starts acting like a buffoon just so they’re equally humiliated, and Eita is laughing again.

Sometimes Eita feels as though he is with psychologists more often than not. Wakatoshi and Sugawara have put their heads together to find him the best. Eita still visits Sugawara, if only because he feels as though Sugawara’s eagerness to help even him is a little like forgiveness. Even though, to be honest, sometimes Sugawara’s idea of help is… a little terrifying.

It’s also a good excuse to see Keiji. Keiji is a force of nature. He has a sort of stillness and staunchness that inspires and frightens Eita, but he greets Eita as family each time he sees him. They are cousins, Eita thinks, technically, but can’t help but feel that in Keiji’s place, he would be angrier. Though it was a group effort, if anything, Eita can’t help but remember that it had been him who had choked Oikawa out the very first time they’d taken him.

He’d been the first one to lay hands on Oikawa. It feels like a stain that won’t ever wash off, but if Keiji knows or cares, he’s decided to leave it alone.

Eita wants to ask about Oikawa, but he’s frightened to know what kind of rage lingers under the surface of Keiji’s calmness.

When he runs into Oikawa by accident, he nearly screams.

“Oikawa-san,” Keiji says, padding after Eita. “I didn’t know you would be here today.”

“I needed to stretch my legs,” Oikawa says, with a smile. “Eita,” he adds, with a nod, as Eita stands rigid in the doorway. Keiji grabs an apple from the table and retreats to let them speak. “How are you?”

“Uh,” Eita manages, with great effort. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” Oikawa says. “We’re good, Eita-chan. I know what you did to save me.”

“But I…” Eita whimpers.

Oikawa waves his hand. “Sit. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

His voice is soft, so much softer than Eita remembers it, like speaking louder would be difficult. He struggles with lifting the chair evenly when he pulls it over. Eita hadn’t seen him much, but he had been all jagged edges when Eita had last seen him, smiles that could cut glass. Now he seems more subdued, a fainter but somehow studier edge. Still feeble, but rising up quickly.

“Alright,” Eita says, drawing up a chair. “Well. You’ll be relieved to know we’ve stopped with the… mass murder plans.”

“That’s good,” Oikawa says, eyes glinting with amusement. He already knows what Eita is going to say, but he’s ready to listen all the same.

Eita sighs, letting go of some of the tension in his body. It’s like talking to himself, he realizes. He just has to sort out his thoughts and tell them coherently, but he won’t be saying the wrong thing, because Oikawa already knows anything he might say.

“We’ve been funneling resources away from traffickers, especially legal resources, which makes it harder for them to function through loopholes. Then we offer up anonymous tips to local authorities, pointing them in the right way for their investigation to hit gold. So far we haven’t caught the traffickers’ attention yet, but soon enough they’ll notice we’ve turned the tables on them, so Satori…”

He pauses, but Oikawa just nibbles at the fruit on the table without so much as flinching.

“Satori has been trying to figure out a way to corner them once they break from the organization.”

“How is he?” Oikawa asks.

“Satori?” Eita says.

Oikawa laughs. “I meant Ushiwaka actually,” he says. “But yes, I suppose, I’m curious about all of them.”

“Wakatoshi is a lot better these days, I think,” Eita says. “He seems happier, and I know he’s prouder of everything he does these days than he used to be.”

“Good,” Oikawa says, ridiculously earnest. “I’m happy for him. And Satori? You? How are you?”

“Ah,” Eita murmurs. “Well… It’s complicated. I think he’s been… you know, happy we’re happy.”

“He cares for you very much.”

“I know,” Eita whispers.

“Does it bother you?” Oikawa looks at him, his eyes piercing.

“N-not really,” Eita says. “But it… it scares me. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to cause him any more pain.”

Oikawa pauses, as if he means to say something, then thinks better of it. He leans back. “You’ll figure it out,” he says. “You’re doing pretty well, given what you’ve been through.”

Eita gives a shaky laugh and looks Oikawa up and down. “You’re one to talk,” he says. He doesn’t really remember anything from his short, short time with the Phoenix inside him, except how quickly he was obliterated by the force of it. And yet, here Oikawa is, mere months after being fused with it for nearly half a year, looking… well. “Can I…” he says, slowly. “Can I tell Wakatoshi you’re alright? I know it would make him feel better.”

“Of course,” Oikawa says. “Though tell him if he doesn’t keep his act together I’ll personally kick his ass.”

Eita laughs at that, and Oikawa laughs with him.

When they die down, though, Eita is struck with guilt again. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything.”

Oikawa shrugs. “It is what it is. Your guilt won’t make things easier for me.”

“Let me guess,” Eita says with a small laugh. “Getting better will?”

Oikawa grins. “Maybe.”

-X-

“Wakatoshi,” Eita says, in the evening. Wakatoshi looks up from where he’s whispering with Satori. “I saw Oikawa today.”

They both freeze, staring at him with equally stunned expressions.

“Was he well?” Wakatoshi asks.

“Yeah,” Eita says. “He’s doing good. He wanted me to tell you that if you don’t stay on track this time, he’s going to personally kick your ass.”

Wakatoshi stares at him, wide-eyed, for a moment, then smiles. Satori makes a ridiculous squealing sound and nearly falls over backwards. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he says. It’s a tiny change, but his shoulders loosen a little bit with the news. Eita smiles. He’s surprised how much it helps to see Wakatoshi relax a little.

Wakatoshi turns back to the papers on his desk, and after a quiet moment, he starts back on murmuring his plans to Satori, who is watching him like one might watch a butterfly that’s just happened to land on their wrist.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to see him happy and still stick around,” Satori says, later. When Eita doesn’t answer, he laughs. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear that, I just thought… you know, being honest and all…”

Eita moves before his fear can get the better of him, and closes his fist around Satori’s pinky and ring finger. He feels like his heart might beat out of his chest in response. “Oh,” Satori whispers, startled into silence. They stand there like that, for who knows how long.

“D’you… you know… think it’d be ok to write to Oikawa? I think it might… be nice for Wakatoshi to be able to do something to help him. Or offer to,” Satori says. “But I don’t want to… you know. Cause trouble.”

“I think it’d be fine,” Eita murmurs.

Satori chews at his lip. “Alright,” he says. “I will.”

He slips his hand out of Eita’s fingers and turns away, and Eita… Eita misses him already, with a pang.

-X-

In the next few days, Eita thinks it over his plan a hundred… no, a thousand times before he manages to get himself to do it. He’s scared to fall into old patterns. Gods know the temptation is there. He misses it. He misses sex, he misses pain. He feels like a junkie, sick from the fix and sick from the desire for it.

But this… this isn’t an old pattern. Up until now, Eita has curled up in his dark room and waited for sleep to come. He’s woken up every morning clammy and still feeling the hands of shadowy nightmare men crawling over his body, his heart cooling even further in his icy chest.

This is a new plan. A hopeful plan.

He knocks on the door, twice, hard, and waits until he hears the bolt come undone.

“Eita,” Satori breathes, when he cracks open the door. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” Eita blurts.

There’s a long silence. Eita stares Satori in the eyes. He can never tell what Satori is thinking, but his eyes have an honest tinge to them when he looks at Eita, and that helps.

“I… I can’t really keep up… this,” Satori says, waving his hand over his face, “when I’m sleeping. Not exactly a pretty sight to wake up to.” He laughs nervously. “But if you want me to stay up, I can…”

“I don’t mind,” Eita says. “Those aren’t the kind of nightmares I have. I just don’t want to be alone.”

Satori pauses, staring at him long and hard, seeming nervous. “Alright,” he whispers. “I guess, if that’s what you want.”

He steps aside and holds out his arm towards the bed invitingly. Eita shuffles past him and slips under his covers. Satori hesitates a moment before pulling another blanket from his dresser and settling down on the other end of the bed. Eita wonders if he should say something, but Satori, after a moment of contemplation, rolls around so his back is facing Eita. “Goodnight, Semi,” he says.

Eita lets out a shuddering sigh and turns his back as well. “Goodnight,” he whispers.

He stays still, listening to Satori’s breathing as it evens out, and then closes his eyes and dozes off as well.

He wakes again soon, sitting up and breathing hard. There’s a faint, green digital clock glowing beside him. He’s only slept three hours. He rubs at his face and glances over at Satori.

In the dim light, with his back turned, there’s nothing that seems out of the ordinary. His hair is mostly intact, spilling over his face and fluttering against his shoulder as he sleeps. His arm comes up to his head, as if making sure his face is hidden from Eita.

A sort of morbid fascination grips Eita, and he inches closer. The back of Satori’s shoulder seems to be free of scarring, stretching back along his arm and meeting with the scarring along his fingers. Eita gently pulls him back to look at his face, and Satori stirs, blinking awake. As soon as he opens his eyes the mirage flickers back into place.

“Don’t,” Eita whispers. “Please. Just let me look at you.”

Satori pauses, but then the image dissipates, leaving only the scars behind. It really is a gruesome sight. In some parts of his mouth the lip is too ragged to hide his teeth, keeping him in a permanent snarl. The scarring is worst over his nose. One of his eyes is badly scarred, the other barely so.

“Does it hurt?” Eita murmurs, hand hovering under Satori’s good eye.

“Not really,” Satori says softly.

Eita brushes his thumb under the eye, feeling the grooves of the scars as he goes. Satori holds his breath. “Then I guess it’s fine,” Eita whispers, running trembling fingers over Satori’s ruined mouth.

“You don’t have to say that,” Satori says.

“When Wakatoshi first brought me here,” Eita murmurs. He’s frightened to talk about these things, but Sugawara says that if he can discuss them in an environment where he feels safe, it will likely help him work through them. He’s not sure he feels safe with Satori, but he would like to. “I thought about cutting up my face. Or burning it. Just… doing anything to make sure I wasn’t pretty enough to want anymore.” He scoffs. “I was scared to do it, though.”

“Oh,” Satori says.

“It wouldn’t have worked against you, though,” Eita murmurs.

Satori is quiet at that. “No, probably not,” he says, after a beat or two. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Eita says. “I just… I mean… you would have still cared about me, and I… still care about you.”

Satori’s eyes widen.

Eita sighs, looking away. “Don’t look at me like that,” Eita murmurs. “I never know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” Satori says. “Yeah. I… I can stop that. I think. Uh.” He chews at his lip absently. “There. Try reading my mind now.”

Eita blinks, but he closes his eyes and reaches out with his powers. He can feel Satori’s nerves, so vibrant and complex that it couldn’t possibly be fake. He smiles, and Satori’s thoughts flutter with a sort of timid joy at the sight. “Thanks,” Eita murmurs, opening his eyes. “That helps a lot.”

“No problem,” Satori says, looking down at his feet. “Sorry I didn’t think of it earlier.”

“It’s alright.” Eita yawns, rubbing at his neck. “I think I might be able to get some more sleep. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine!” Satori cries.

Eita sleeps better this time, but he wakes to find Satori up and the facade in place, reading a letter in the nearest armchair with an odd smile. Eita can’t help but feel a little disappointed, but it still beats being entirely alone when he wakes up.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“It’s from Oikawa,” Satori murmurs. “He says if I write how you guys are doing every so often he’s willing to let Waka pay his rent.”

“How kind of him,” Eita snorts.

Satori laughs. “It is kind of him,” he says. “Though he’s being petty about it. Can’t blame him for that, though.”

Eita stares at him softly. This is an odd moment, seeing Satori in the soft morning light, smiling gently over a letter. Satori catches him looking and curls in on himself a little, looking away.

“Eita,” Satori murmurs, finally.

“Hm?” Eita says, feeling a little dazed.

“Um,” Satori whispers. “I lied. Again. I’m sorry.”

Eita starts out of his trance, blinking at Satori’s face. His first impulse is to get up and back away in panic, but instead he lets Satori finish.

“It does hurt,” he says, looking away even harder. “The scars, I mean. Mostly my joints, but they hurt all the time.”

“Oh,” Eita says.

“I don’t want you to worry!” Satori says. “I just felt bad about lying, so I…” Eita drops out of the bed, strides over to where Satori is sitting, and grabs him by the hand to drag him out the door. “Wait, Eita, where are you… I’m sorry…”

“I’m telling Wakatoshi,” Eita says.

Satori makes a strangled sound. “No, Eita, you _can’t_ …”

“Please,” Eita says, stopping and turning around with a huff. “Do this. For me.”

All fight leaves Satori immediately. “Alright,” he says, and lets Eita drag him back to Wakatoshi’s room.

Wakatoshi doesn’t seem surprised to see them, a potted plant in his lap as he waters it. He looks up at them expectantly

“Show him,” Eita says, elbowing Satori in the ribs. Satori hesitates, looking ready to bolt. “Satori, he won’t mind.”

Wakatoshi just stares at them, patient.

Satori drops the facade. There’s enough light in the room for Eita to get a better look than he has so far, but strangely enough it doesn’t disturb him anymore. He only feels a pang in his heart, imagining the sort of pain Satori must have been in as a child when he crawled away from his home with these kinds of injuries.

Wakatoshi makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “I was aware that you were hiding your true appearance,” he says. “Though I would not have thought this was why.”

“It doesn’t scare you or anything?” Satori says.

“No,” Wakatoshi says, as though he doesn’t understand the question.

“I think,” Eita says. “That Satori feels as though these scars are a reminder of what he feels he is. Frightening and unworthy of love.” He waits for Satori to correct him, but he doesn’t, staring instead at the floor, on the verge of tears.

Wakatoshi contemplates the situation quietly, then sets the plant aside. He stands and walks towards Satori, who watches nervously. Wakatoshi simply wraps his arms around Satori and holds him.

“He’s also in pain,” Eita says as Wakatoshi finally pulls away, leaving Satori on the verge of tears. He crosses his arms and glares Satori down.

“Wait,” Satori says, holding his hands up defensively as Wakatoshi joins Eita by narrowing his eyes. “I’ve had it for a long time, I’m used to it…” he says, backing away with a chuckle.

“I will find you a doctor,” Wakatoshi says.

Satori squeaks. “Really, Waka, you don’t have to go through that effort,” he tries.

“It is a inconsequential fraction of the effort you are worth to me,” Wakatoshi says.

Eita smirks at Satori triumphantly as Satori blinks like a deer in the headlights.

“But… but I…” Satori whispers.

“I’ll research treatment options today,” Wakatoshi says. “And we’ll discuss later.”

“Uh,” Satori says.

“Thanks, Wakatoshi,” Eita says, and leaves him be, dragging Satori along with him.

Satori glares at him. “I bet you’re real proud of yourself now,” he mutters.

Eita laughs. “I am, actually,” he says. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

Satori just mutters at him darkly, pulling back up the mirage before anyone sees. “You’re terrible,” he says, without any real bite.

Eita stares at him, but he can’t bring himself to say anything else, though there is plenty to say. Instead, he drops his hand, stroking along Satori’s forearm as he goes, and turns away.

-X-

In the next few months, regardless of how many times they’ve slept in the same bed, Eita still hasn’t managed to wake up to Satori’s face a single time. Satori sleeps with his arms up and his back turned. His hair is long enough to hide his face even when he forgets and sleeps with his long arms hanging off the edge of the bed. He goes to bed after Eita and wakes up well before him.

Eita wants Satori to be comfortable, but it’s lonely, almost as lonely as waking up alone, and he knows it’s fear that keeps Satori from showing his face.

Eita is angry about it at first, but then he simply tries to think of how to bring it up to Satori. With words. Like a normal person.

A few days into that anxiety, Eita finds himself trying to fall asleep with Satori still reading beside him. An idea sparks in his head, and he sighs as though he were asleep and tries to control his breathing.

A lot of his captors had left him alone if he was sleeping. He’s good at this.

He rolls over with a mumble, snuggling up to Satori.

He worries for a moment that it will feel like the touching and groping he has nightmares about, but Satori freezes and his hands stay far away from Eita, but his chest rises and falls under Eita’s head. It’s warm and his sweater is soft, and this is not how anyone ever touched Eita, not even when they wanted to be cruel by feigning kindness.

Satori doesn’t move or shift away, so Eita slides his hand around his waist, still pretending to sleep, and holds him closer.

It doesn’t feel anything like being grabbed. It feels more like a promise.

It’s so safe and warm he actually does fall asleep, faster than he’d meant to.

When he wakes, Satori is still reading, though he looks a great deal more tired. He smiles when he looks down at Eita. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve seen you out so cold before.”

He’d stayed up. All night. Just in case Eita woke up at night and was frightened by him. Eita just gawks at him. He tries to figure out what Satori is thinking, but he meets the wall again. “Satori,” he whispers.

“Please don’t make me right now,” Satori murmurs. “I don’t want you to see that stuff.”

“What stuff?” Eita whispers. “Please tell me.”

“How they looked at me,” Satori croaks. “And it wasn’t just fear, because after a while I could… you know. I could use fear. I could take it back. It was the way they’d looked at me like something they were scared of, but something pathetic, too. There’s no way to own that.”

Eita finds himself sniffling, heart suddenly clenched in a vice by the thought of Satori, ten years old, crawling out of a fire and meeting hatred and pity all at once.

“Please don’t cry,” Satori whispers.

“I’m not,” Eita growls, wiping his tears away. “I’m fine.” He stumbles to his feet and leaves the room.

In the afternoon, he finds Satori slumped in a chair in the dining room, snoring softly, an old hoodie pulled around his head, though not well enough to hide all the scars. He tiptoes back to Wakatoshi’s office to get him, and Wakatoshi pulls Satori into his arms and takes him back to his room.

This time, Eita doesn’t try to curl up next to him, but he can’t help but peek. Trace the curves of Satori’s face. With his hair down, the line of his jaw seems softer too. The fingers on his left hand are gnarled and uneven. The canine tooth that pokes out from under Satori’s lip is a little crooked.

The strangeness and lopsidedness of it all is sort of soothing, sort of like a confused puzzle piece that might just fit the confused, lopsided puzzle inside Eita.

When Satori stirs, Eita considers looking away, pretending he wasn’t looking, but it would feel too much like getting away with taking something Satori didn’t want him to take. Instead, he looks at Satori, and Satori looks back.

The scars stay out in the open.

“May I tell you something private?” Eita murmurs.

“You don’t have to do that, Eita,” Satori says, weakly. “I’m ok.”

“I trust you not to look at me different for it,” Eita continues. “I’d like you to do the same. If I tell you.”

Satori pauses, then nods.

“Good looking men scare me,” Eita says. Satori flinches. “They were always the ones who brought friends that they wanted to impress.”

Satori looks away.

“I think you can imagine what kinds of things a man like that would want to impress his friends with.”

Satori nods.

“I like it,” Eita says, simply. “I don’t like that you have to live with it, but I like it, and when I wake up scared because I dreamed they were putting their slimy hands all over me, I want to know that you could have made those fuckers piss themselves.”

That gets Satori to laugh, loud and hard. “Eita,” he says. “I thought you were over the revenge thing,” he says.

“Well,” Eita says with a chuckle. “I still wouldn’t mind if they pissed themselves on the way to jail.”

“Ah!” Satori says, eyes wide, starting up. “Semi. I meant Semi.”

“Oh, forget it. Just don’t lie to me anymore,” Eita growls. “And stop hiding from me.”

“Ok,” Satori says, sheepish. Then he grins, lopsided and a little demonic. “You serious about that pissing themselves thing? Because you know… I wouldn’t mind doing that for ya.”

“I don’t want you to go around thinking you’re a monster again,” Eita mutters.

Satori chuckles. “Nah,” he says. “Well, I mean, a little. But that’s who I am, and I know now that… you know, that doesn’t mean I can’t be… happy with you guys as well. Even though you’re finally going down the right road.”

Eita chews at his lip. “Fine,” he sighs. “But I… I don’t want it to become something disgusting again.”

“What if I only use images that are really ridiculous?” Satori says with a childish grin. It makes his face, scars and all, look oddly lovable. “Make it like a prank. Just… a prank on a serial rapist. Where the end goal is to get them to piss themselves. And then send them to jail.”

Eita considers it, then smiles slowly at that. “That… sounds fun, actually,” he says. He laughs. “We’re a little fucked up, aren’t we?”

Satori shrugs. “Well,” he says. “Maybe a little.”

Eita huffs and clambers into bed beside him, pushing his face into Satori’s chest.

“Can I touch you?” Satori murmurs.

“Maybe… maybe wait with that,” Eita says.

“Alright,” Satori says. After a while, he says. “I’m happy. You want to listen?”

“Yes,” Eita says, and opens his mind so that he can meet Satori’s as he opens his. Satori is happy in a way that is still sort of unfamiliar to Eita, but which finally seems… tangible. Achievable.

“Goodnight,” Satori whispers.

“Goodnight,” Eita murmurs back, and listens to Satori’s content thoughts until he falls asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *jazz hands* 
> 
> They'll still show up in future fics but this is kinda where I'm leaving them for the foreseeable future.
> 
> Feathers is coming along and I'll post it... probably next week? Until then... Uh... I guess just continue crying about Iwaizumi Tooru.


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